


for love

by whatcaniwriteinthis



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, I Can't Believe This Isn't Slash, if this reads like dirgewithoutmusic's series that's because it's supposed to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcaniwriteinthis/pseuds/whatcaniwriteinthis
Summary: why else would she do what she did?in defense of silena beauregard





	

**Author's Note:**

> because i really love this girl and i while protect her with my dying breath ((also cho chang but that's another fic))

I wonder what Silena thought as she pulled on Clarisse’s armor. I wonder what was on her mind as she buckled familiar but unfamiliar straps.

This was not the first set of armor she had donned. She had her own- but she would not wear it to her final battle. She carried the boar helmet outside, to meet Butch- son of Iris, and Clarisse’s charioteer. He must have known. He would have known from the moment she stepped foot on the chariot.

She must have gripped his hand and whispered him a promise. “For the ignored.” she might have whispered.

They laughed at her on the battlefield- her pink and red armor that Charlie made, her inability to hold a spear correctly. She wasn’t a fighter, this she knew. But for Clarisse, for Charlie, for the Camp, she would be.

Butch must have clutched her hand, clutched the lifeline she was extending. He knew she was no warrior. He knew she would fight. “For the ignored.” he might have repeated, in a voice just as low.

The Ares cabin must have noticed the Clarisse leading them was not the same that always did. They were warriors, but they were not foolish. They knew each other. They must have seen beyond the armor. They must have seen beyond the boar helmet.

But in the end, they followed. The Camp was their home, it housed their friends. They would not cower because of a forgotten slight.

Clarisse was proud- too proud- but she was their sister. They followed her. The Clarisse on the chariot promised victory. They must have known she wasn’t their Clarisse- but they still followed her.

“For Ares!” she must have screamed, her voice too high.

“For Ares!” they must have screamed back and for a moment, she was their own.

I wonder what Clarisse thought, when she found the camp abandoned. I wonder how long it took before she discovered her spear missing, her armor missing, her chariot missing, _Silena_ _missing_. I wonder if she swore. I wonder if she smiled a little, at the bravery of her friend.

I wonder if either of them drew the parallels. They both knew the stories. They both knew of the invincible Achilles, blessed by the River Styx- save his ankles. They must have known of Patroclus- of how he donned his ~~lover’s~~ friend’s armor, of how he led an army with the idea of a fearsome warrior, of how he was finally struck down. I wonder if Silena thought of this as she screamed at the drakon. I wonder if Clarisse thought of this as she hurried to the battlegrounds- armor-less and weaponless but just as fearsome.

They must have- at least by the time Silena was dying, Charlie’s name on her lips, the bracelet falling from her hands. And then Clarisse stood, trembling with an indescribable rage.

“She was a hero, understand? A hero.” she said, her voice shaking with grief and fury. No one could have challenged her in that moment.

“For Ares!” Silena had screamed as a rallying call- but that was not her true reason. She fought for a different reason.

For the ignored. For the underestimated. For those who would never be warriors. For her siblings. For Clarisse. For Charlie.

For love.

In the end, love was behind her actions. She accepted the bracelet, the weight it would bring to her wrist, for love- misguided as it was. She continued as a spy, devastating as it was, for love. She wore Clarisse’s armor, heavy and wrong, for love. She faced the drakon she knew she could not kill- for love.

This was the Aphrodite she was born under, this raging force stronger than mere words that drove people to do the unthinkable. Silena was not born under beauty or romance or sex. Selina was born under _love_ , a force too strong for a single body to contain.

This was the force behind her blade as she brought it down, clean and true. But there is only so much love can do for you.

She must have realized this, in her final moments. She must have made peace with this as her breath grew ragged and tight.

Clarisse never cried, but she cried for Silena. For this strong, open girl who saw an opponent too big and too strong for her, and charged anyways.

She took her spear gently from Silena and stood. This drakon- screaming in triumph- would be killed by her, and only her.

“For Silena,” she must have whispered to herself. “A hero.” She _would_ kill this drakon.

For Silena. For her home. For the ignored. For those that could not fight. For the dead. For the wounded. For her siblings. For her father. For Chris. For the Camp. For its heroes. For Silena.

For love.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my [tumblr](http://probablypartiallyinsane.tumblr.com/)???


End file.
